Gemini (Supernatural Rewrite Sam x Reader x Dean)

Wendigo

Red. Red everywhere. Your mother's mouth agape in a disgustingly taut way, her lips spread too thin as her mouth hangs open unnaturally. You could hear the screams she wailed echoing off your soul as you stared into her dead eyes.

It always came back to the rug underneath her. The stupid rug she tried her hardest to keep pristine. Now look at it. Ruined. A mess. Just like the flesh of her neck. They say she went crazy. Lost control. Dug her fingers in and didn't stop. You knew better though.

Your living room was filled with strange people and the silence was ruined with sounds of the flash of expensive cameras. You idly wondered who would be looking at the photos of your dead mother once they hit their desk. What kind of person could see gruesome gore like that every day and not be affected?

You still couldn't explain what happened. Your mother's piercing screams for help as her throat was torn out in front of you didn't make any sense. No human had the strength to nearly decapitate themselves.

"You got home early, you found her like this. That's all you remember.' That's what John had told you to say. Just tell them what John told you to say and everything will be ok.

Except nothing would ever be ok ever again. Not after this.

The detective whose name you already forgot shook their head, tapping a pen against their little notebook. You shuddered to think of the details jotted down within it.

"Can you think of any other details you might be leaving out?" He asked again, studying you as he spoke. He was suspicious and rightfully so.

John's story. "I came home early from school, I didn't feel well— I just found her like this. I think I passed out, seeing all the blood... I can't remember—" You started to ramble.

With a defeated sigh, the detective betrayed his own confidence, revealing how little information they had on what they were assuming was a homicide.

"Did you mother have any enemies? Anyone that would want to... do something to her? Hurt her?"

"No. As far as I know she didn't even have friends other than my dad... an he's... well. He's gone." Another lie, but mentioning the Winchesters...after what happened to Mary? Not an option.

A shudder ran down your spine at the bone-chilling realization that you were an orphan now.

Nobody left to love you, take care of you, protect you. You were on your own... and what's worse? Your mother knew it was coming since the moment you were born. Counting down the minutes until the last grain of sand. That much was clear.

John had tried to explain it to you. Demons. Deals. What happened to Mary. Hell hounds. Those were the beasts that made ground beef out of your mother's neck. Nothing more than puppy chow.

Firm fingers pressed into your temple and you rubbed in small circles. There was absolutely no denying that monsters were real anymore. They'd taken everything from you, and now you knew what Dean and Sam and John had felt like the night their house went up in flames.

The detective just watched you, studying you. You could tell he wanted to ask you more, but you avoided his gaze, hoping he would pick up on the fact you were done talking.

"I think we're done here, detective. If Violet remembers anything else, she'll call. In the meantime, why don't you go try to solve a homicide, hm?" Dean's voice was a god send. You felt his strong hands pulling you from the couch and into a hug before you knew it.

The detective's mouth opened as though he wanted to say something to the rude teenager who stood in front of him, but instead he cleared his throat. "We'll be in touch."